


An Unexpected Visit from a Famous Historian

by suspiciousteapot



Series: Imagine Claire and Jamie ficlets [9]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:19:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6031191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspiciousteapot/pseuds/suspiciousteapot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked: Imagine Jamie meeting uncle lamb</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Response to a prompt sent to imagineclaireandjamie on tumblr  
> As always, comments, etc. are greatly appreciated :)

“I was told to come here.”

Jamie froze in the dining room at the sound of the words spoken in the clipped tones of an English accent, lending them a sense of threat.

“Who told ye ye aught to come here?”

The fear that prickled down his back faded a bit at the sound of Jenny being her usual prickly self. Normally when the Redcoats were about she was obliged to be more cautious and deferential.

Nonetheless, an Englishman being sent to Lallybroch did not bode well, so Jamie hastened outside.

“The Laird of Clan Mackenzie,” said the Englishman, brandishing his words as though they were a signed letter of introduction from the King of England himself.

“Colum Mackenzie sent ye here?” He asked, incredulous and now even more suspicious. Yet despite Colum’s anger at his marriage to Claire, surely he would not put them directly in harm’s way. That was Dougal’s domain.

Jamie studied the Englishman. If he did bear them a threat, it certainly wasn’t a physical one. He was of fair height, slim build, and a slightly tanned complexion, wearing strange brown breeks, vest and coat that looked most uncomfortable, with a red bow at his neck. His light brown hair was a familiar shock of messy curls.

“Uncle!”

Jamie had barely registered Claire’s excited exclamation before she’d passed him and thrown herself into the stranger’s open arms.

“Darling!”

“Ah, is this Claire’s family, then?” Asked Ian, appearing at Jamie’s right and slightly out of breath.

“Aye. It must be her uncle Lamb.”

Though how it was that Claire’s wayward uncle had found her here, Jamie hadn’t the slightest idea.  

“Tell me James, what exactly is the function of a dried mole’s foot?” Quentin Lambert Beauchamp asked as he munched on a piece of stuffed cabbage. After learning of his identity, Jamie had naturally invited him to stay, and Claire’s uncle had happily accepted. Before he’d even set foot through the door, he’d begun to ask them all about every detail of their lives, customs, and politics, embellished by what he already knew or presumed.

“Ah…”

“I saw a chap take one out at Leoch, you see, after he came in from the rain. He seemed quite unsettled when I tried to get a closer look. Wasn’t too keen on me enquiring about what else was in his _sporran_ either, as a matter of fact.” Lamb remarked, almost to himself.

“A man’s sporran is a bit…personal, ye see.” Jamie explained patiently. Lamb nodded solemnly.

“Ah, of course, of course. Like a woman’s purse, I suppose.” Lamb commented, scribbling with a strange metal rod in the wee book that he’d been writing in all evening and throughout dinner, despite Jenny’s pointed looks and comments.

“As to the purpose of the mole’s foot,” Jamie said, pressing on, “well, that’s te protect against rheumatism.”

“To protect against _rheumatism_! How novel! And what does our resident medical professional think of that, then?” He asked Claire.

“Ah, well. I suppose it could be counted as a sort of placebo…” she commented, with none of her usual enthusiasm, attuned as she was to the tension her uncle’s comments had introduced to the dining room table and – for once – playing mediator instead of instigator.

“Absolutely! And what a fabulously grisly folk placebo it is too! Such things as people come up with. I’d heard of Scots being barbarians, but I’d not thought it would be the moles who would have the most to fear from them!”

Everybody froze, save Lamb, who was cutting a piece of rabbit, utterly unaware of the impact of his remarks. Claire had mentioned he was a scholar, and Jamie had known more than one at the Université who was less aware of their words than they ought to have been, yet he was still shocked by the man’s obtuseness.

“A healthy tan, Mr. Beauchamp. You’ve been away?” Ian asked, attempting to diffuse the situation.

“I have indeed! A regular Sherlock Homes you are, my dear Ian.” Lamb commented, a tad loudly.

“Sherlock who?” Jenny queried.

“Ah yes, I forgot.” Uncle Lamb laughed. He winked at Claire and tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. Jamie noted that both uncle and niece had a tendency to lose what subtlety they had when they were a few glasses into the bottle. He hid his smile in his own glass.

“And what’s that supposed te-”

“Where were you off to this time, Uncle?” Claire prompted, curtailing Jenny’s annoyed interjection.

“I’ve just come from Australia, as a matter of fact. A most lovely corner of the Empire - though, I must say, not quite as breathtaking this one! Perhaps equally deadly though, for an Englishman, that is.” He chuckled at his own joke.

This dinner had to end quickly. For all Claire’s uncle was clearly a kind man, Jamie thought Jenny was about ready to give him a solid whack with a candlestick, and to be honest, if she didn’t do so in the next few minutes, he was about ready to do it himself.

–

“I’m terribly sorry about my uncle. He, ah, he’s just very…enthusiastic about different cultures.” Claire said, rejoining Jenny, Ian and Jamie.

They’d all retired to sit around the fire after dinner, Claire having excused Uncle Lamb to bed, despite his protestations.

Jenny shot her a look that could wither a freshly cut flower. “Is he then?”

“He really doesn’t mean to offend, and I’m sure I can convince him to leave his notebook upstairs during dinner,” Claire bargained, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

Jenny raised her eyebrows, but was silent. As good a peace offering as they were like to see from her that evening, and for good reason, Jamie had to admit.

“Well he’s certainly a learned man.” Ian noted. “He must have been an excellent teacher.”

“Absolutely!” Claire agreed, a child-like enthusiasm lighting her face as she settled in beside Jamie. “He used to read me myths from whichever country we were in, and tell me of their history and customs.”

Jenny snorted. “The history and customs as the English see them, ye mean.”

Claire frowned. “I suppose so… I hadn’t considered that. Uncle Lamb is quite keen to be accurate though.”

“Aye.” Jamie agreed, “but the facts ye choose to tell are only half of a story, Sassenach. What facts ye choose to tell and how ye choose dress them up changes them completely.”

–

The following morning after breakfast, Jamie proposed that he, Claire and Lamb go for a walk, to show he uncle the estate. Ian and Jenny quickly agreed to mind the work for a couple of hours alone, Lamb exclaiming joyfully over getting to see his niece’s new home. Jamie and Claire, for their part, were far more interested in hearing how Lamb had found his way to Lallybroch.

“I was detained at Leoch for a while, you see, that’s why it’s taken me so long to find you, darling.” Lamb explained, easily keeping pace with his niece and nephew-in-law as they walked to the broch from which Jamie and Claire derived their titles. “They were very concerned about me being a spy. A very logical conclusion, I must say, and one I was rather hard put to dismiss.”

Claire laughed. “I’ll say. Do go on.”

Jamie noticed that she seemed – if possible – even more English in her uncle’s presence.

“Well I was more than pleased to stay and observe the people of Leoch, but I still didn’t know what had become of you, Claire. At first they were rather coy about it, asking what I knew of you, and who sent me. Who sent me! I ask you, really now, what dark figures do they think you’re associated with? I was rather miffed, so I told them straight out that I was simply your uncle and they’d best tell me exactly where you were. And _my goodness_ , did get brusque then!”

“I’m sure.” Claire said wryly. Her uncle ignored the tone, engrossed as he was in his story.

“The war chief – and my, doesn’t he look the part! – looked like he wanted to run me through right there, in his brother’s office! I half thought he might. Absolutely bristling with weapons. Every man here is, even your young man!” He commented, clapping Jamie on the shoulder affectionately and beaming at him.

“You’ll have noticed the _sgian-dubhs_?” He asked Claire.

“I’m aware of them. In fact, I have one myself.” She said proudly, and Jamie thought he could clearly see the wee lass she’d once been, eagerly running along beside her uncle, keen to prove her intelligence and knowledge. He grinned to himself.

“Do you then? And you know how to use it?” Claire nodded, a touch more solemnly, undoubtedly remembering the one time she’d had to use it. Jamie took her hand in support, and she squeezed back.

“Ingenious invention,” continued Lamb, not noticing the change in mood. “Distract the attacker with the knife in your sock, and then stick them with your dirk.” He pantomimed. “But I digress. Er, where was I?”

“With my uncles,” Jamie reminded him, “about te get stabbed.”

“Ah yes! Well, I assured them I had no nefarious intentions, as I wished only to find my Claire, and eventually they sent me off in your direction. Although I’m certain the man they sent to accompany me was actually there to ensure I was true to my intentions.”

“Aye, he certainly was.” Jamie agreed. “Though now ye’re here, Colum and Dougal have likely washed their hands of ye, so ye needn’t be worried about them anymore.”

“Well I should hope so!”

“Uncle, how did you get here in the first place?” Claire asked.

Uncle Lamb furrowed his eyebrows “How do you mean?”

“To this time.” Jamie clarified. “How did ye ken to go through the Faerie stones? Claire says ye dinna have the same superstitions in your country and time as we do.”

“Faerie stones? Of course! The stones from the tale of Balnain, are they not?” Lamb asked excitedly. “Utterly charming story; quite haunting, really. And now we’re in it, hey Beauchamp?” He winked at Claire.

She grinned back. “That we most certainly are!”

“So how did you come to be near them?” Jamie prompted.

“Well, naturally I came at once to Scotland when I heard of your disappearance, my dear…”

_“Has any progress been made?”_

_Frank shook his head impatiently, his hands clutching so tightly to the sides of the couch on which he sat that his knuckles were white as bone._

_“Not much. The police force is composed of a bunch of bloody idiots.”_

_Much as they had been when Henry and Julia disappeared, Lamb thought, trying to suppress the memory even as it grabbed hold of him. A car crash with seemingly no cause; a wreck by the side of a bare road. All that was left were mangled bodies, and a child left without parents and with only the most unsatisfactory of explanations. And now she was gone too. Though to add to the confusion, the car was intact this time, and there was no sign that Claire had been harmed._

_“Well then. We’ll have to do some of the grunt work ourselves, hey?”_

_Frank looked up at him, and Lamb saw no trace of the quiet yet roguish lad he’d been when they’d collaborated all those years before. He looked like a lost child, a resemblance so unsettling that Lamb had to turn away. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but a stiff tot of whisky seemed just the thing at the moment. Luckily the housekeeper seemed to have anticipated this._

_“Start from the beginning then,” he said, pouring himself a drink, and preparing one for Frank for good measure. “The last place you saw her was at Craigh na Dun?”_

_“Yes, but it’s futile to search there.” Frank advised, accepting the drink and downing it in one gulp. “I’ve gone over it, as have the bloody bobbies, for whatever use that is.”_

_Lamb sipped his more slowly, looking over the evidence that Reverend Wakefield had tacked to a wall._

_“Well, fresh eyes and all that. Perhaps I’ll pick up on something you missed. A needle in the sand” He was pleased to see Frank looked slightly heartened at this reference to their time working together. Diligence had lead them to find many an important detail then, and Lamb was sure history would repeat itself now._

_“You check it again then.” Frank said, with new heart, “I’m off to the police station see if anyone’s called in.”_

“The poor man.” Lamb commented, “He looked so utterly dejected. But he is trying his absolute best, and he’s a diligent man. Do you remember, Claire, when you two first met, and he tromped all the way out with you to that little village near Cairo because you were so eager to hear about Ancient Egyptian medicine?”

It was not said with any reproach, but Jamie saw a wave of guilt overcome Claire.

“So ye went to the Stones then?” Jamie encouraged him.

“The Stones? Yes! Indeed I did. But before I got out the door, a very helpful woman stopped to give me some information that I would’ve been absolutely lost without.”

_On the way out, he nearly ran right into a small, brown haired woman with bright, knowing eyes. “Ye must be Mrs. Randall’s uncle,” she greeted him, “I’m Mrs. Graham.”_

_“A pleasure.” Lamb accepted her hand before trying to move past her, but she blocked him._

_“Where are ye of to?” She asked._

_“I’m off to a place called Craigh na Dunn, to check for any sign of my niece. I know the police and Frank - ”_

_“Ye seem an open-minded sort, Mr. Beauchamp,” she interjected._

_“Lamb,” he automatically corrected. “Everyone calls me Lamb, or Lambert. And I think I am rather  open-minded.”_

_“Have ye heard any tales of Craigh na Dun?”_

“So that’s how you knew where you were once you fell through?” Claire guessed.

“Right you are, my dear. I didn’t believe her at the time, of course,” he added, somewhat flippantly in Jamie’s opinion. “But when I awoke to find the road had disappeared…well. It seemed that was the only explanation for it.”

Claire shook her head and sighed. “I wish I’d heard of that before I fell through. I hadn’t the faintest clue what had happened.”

“Ye did well enough for yerself, Sassenach.”

‘That she did!” Uncle Lamb commented, eyeing the pair of them pointedly. They had yet to have that discussion.

“ _Anyways,_ ” Claire pressed on. “You picked yourself up then.”    

“So I did. I walked on for a few days, found a river in the woods, and followed it all the way to a small village. I asked some of the people there if they’d seen you, Claire, and they said a bunch of nonsense about you being a witch!”

Claire snorted and rolled her eyes. “You found Crainesmuir then.”

“Not a good place to be a woman with knowledge of healing.” Jamie explained.

“I suppose not. Not in this time, at any rate.” Lamb agreed. “Well amongst the nonsense, someone told me you’d come from Leoch, and if anyone would know where you were, it would be the people there. So off I went. It was there, as I’ve told you, that I met your charming uncles.”

“And all without sullying your Oxfords.” Claire commented with a grin.

“Well I wouldn’t quite say that,” Lamb laughed, “but I got them up to shape again before I set off.”  

“And ye’ll stay now?” Jamie asked, the joke passing him by. This was the man who’d raised Claire to be the woman she was. What was more, he was the only family she had, besides his own. She was so happy for him to be here - indelicate though he could sometimes be - and Jamie was keen to get to know him better.

“If you’ll have me, I would love to stay awhile.” Lamb replied, stopping as they reached the door of the broch.

Jamie happily clapped him on the back. “Of course we’ll have ye, ye’re family.”

–

Over the following few weeks, Lamb continued to charm and frustrate the inhabitants of Lallybroch.

He brimmed with enthusiasm about every aspect of their life, even such mundane things as observing how to put on a kilt - something Claire enjoyed too, though in a much different way, Lamb insisting on practicing himself, while Claire much preferred interrupting Jamie in the act of putting it on.

Wee Jamie in particular was quite taken with Lamb, as he’d revealed himself to be quite good with the weans, entertaining Jamie, Rabbie, and the other local children with stories of far off countries and games of exploration and adventure. His favourite was to explore the ground and, as he put it “let it yield its secret stories onto us.” Jenny, however, despised this game, as it involved large holes appearing unexpectedly around Lallybroch, and dirtier than normal children making a mess of the halls and furniture. Therefore it was summarily banned.

One warm afternoon - Jenny having allowed wee Jamie to run off with the other children and join in Lamb’s adventure game – Jamie, Ian, Claire, and Jenny relaxed outside briefly before dinner, enjoying the peace and quiet, their daytime chores done.

“I must admit, when he’s not bringing them tromping through the halls covered in muck, yer uncle is a help with the bairns.” Jenny commented.

“He’s always been good with kids,” Claire agreed, “though he never married, so hasn’t any of his own.”

“Had his hands full with you, I reckon.” Jamie teased.

Claire rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove. “I’ll have you know, I was very well behaved.”

At that, they all burst out laughing, until they were interrupted by the shrieks of children running home to their supper.

“Well that’s the end of that then,” Claire noted.

As they rose to go inside, they were met by Uncle Lamb coming down the path, hands behind his back.

“Madam, Murray,” Lamb greeted Jenny, whipping out a bundle of flowers from behind his back and handing them to her, “a small gift, for imposing on your hospitality these past couple of weeks.”

Jenny looked rather stunned for a moment, before recovering and pursing her lips.

“It isna decent for a man to give another man’s wife a present,” she commented sharply, before turning on her heel and bustling into the house, calling for Mrs. Crook to fetch her a vase.

“That’s my wife’s way of saying thank ye.” Ian clarified, as Uncle Lamb looked to Claire in confusion.

“Ah, I see.” He beamed. Then his eyes went unfocused, his face taking on the look Claire so often wore when considering a problem. “Do Scottish men frequently try to seduce married women right out in the open with small gifts?”

Claire burst out laughing as Jamie and Ian turned beet-red, and Lamb looked between the three in confusion.

–

Jamie stood, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The harvest had just begun, and he’d almost forgotten how tiring the task was. An odd sight caught his eye - over by the millpond, it seemed that Jenny and Lamb were walking together. He even saw Jenny laugh at something Lamb said.

Things had certainly gotten easier these past weeks, Lamb settling into this time just as Claire had, not so long ago. A weight settled on his shoulders at the knowledge that this tranquility would not last. Lamb would have to leave eventually, as would he and Claire. Claire had said that the Jacobites would eventually rebel against the English, and the English would retaliate, sending the country into a brief but bloody war. He had seen the sorrow with which she sometimes looked at her uncle, and knew it was because at some point in the near future, she would have to send him back to keep him safe.

That night he sought Lamb out for a private talk.

“Would ye let her stay, knowing she was faced war?” Jamie asked bluntly, when they were settled in his father’s study with a glass of whisky each.

Lamb was silent a moment, then nodded. “Not that it’s up to me, but I won’t fight her on it. I’ve seen her leave to war before, you know.”

“Aye, I do. She was a nurse, she said, in the Great War ye faced in yer time.”

Lamb nodded. “When I first saw her, all dressed up in her smart uniform, determined to make a difference, I wanted to pick her up and lock her in her room. All I could see was a little girl who walked to close to the road and dove headfirst into adventure, heedless of the danger. But I knew it would be wrong to stop her. I raised her to have her own mind, and to let that guide her. I couldn’t well go back on that just because where it lead her scared me. She has a destiny, just as everyone does, but unlike many, she has the talent, intelligence, courage, and determinedness to pursue it. So now she’s made her way here, and she’s happier than I’ve ever seen her.” He gave Jamie a small smile. “I would never try to take that from her.”

“Nor would I.” Jamie reassured him, gaining a new respect for the man. “Yet much as she – and the rest of us – would love for ye te stay, ye ken she will want ye safely away when things start getting more dangerous.”

“I know that well. She called, visited, and wrote as often as she could, you know – during the Great War. She was on the front lines, but still she worried that I would be in danger. She was right on that too. If my assistant hadn’t woken me that night at the museum…well, the Blitz would have claimed me too, as it claimed so many others.”

He paused, before quietly adding, “That’s one of the few times I’ve heard her cry, you know. When she called me, having heard that the museum had been blown up.”

Jamie felt his throat tighten in sympathy for his wife. To be separated from your family, thinking them dead…he knew what that was.

“I won’t put her through that again.” Lamb concluded. “Though I’m not prepared to wonder for the rest of my life whether or not she lived through a war that happened 200 years ago either. I’ll go when things get dire, but Claire and I have already decided on a method of communicating – or, rather, of her leaving information for me.”

“And how d’ye plan te do that?”

“Claire’s idea, really.” Lamb said proudly, “She’ll leave me letters in a tin box that she’ll bury to the right of the door of Broch Tuarach. That way, when I go back, I can simply nip over and retrieve them.”

“Should we have to leave -” Jamie began.

“Should you have to leave, she’ll write a last letter detailing where you’ve gone, so I’ll know where to look next,” Lamb finished for him.

“Are ye sure ye’ll find them?” Jamie asked. Their future was not so plain as Lamb made it out to be, much as Jamie wished it were.

Lamb laughed. “Provided they survive the centuries, I most certainly will. I am, after all, an archeologist, first and foremost.”

—–

Note: After Quentin Lambert Beauchamp returned through the Stones, he made a BBC documentary about Jacobite-era Scotland that won him a good deal of praise from the historical community. When asked how he always to speaks as though he’s been there himself, he merely laughs and says he had a very good first-hand source. He also earns many compliments on his lovely new bowtie made of a beautiful plaid with a distinctive red stripe, given to him by his niece’s husband.

Uncle Lamb, as he would have appeared on BBC.


	2. The Two Musketeers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Imagine Jamie and Claire meet Ned Gowan again

 

“Ned Gowan!” Quentin Lambert exclaimed happily as his addressee carefully dismounted in Lallybroch’s front yard, where the Frasers and Murrays had assembled when Rabbie McNab came tearing in announcing his imminent arrival.

“Who, to thy one, all other brains refuse;

Whose every work of thy most early wit

Came forth example, and remains so yet;”

“Longer a-knowing than most wits do live;” Ned joined in, “And which no affection praise enough can give!”

They both chuckled as they heartily shook hands.

Claire and Jamie shared a look of surprise at their familiarity, though Claire’s shock quickly faded into amusement. It made sense that Lamb would have befriended Ned in his short stay at Leoch, the two were so alike that she chided herself for not realizing sooner that they would become fast friends. She could clearly see them together in that castle furnished with all the characters and stories they could ever desire in the imaginings of adventure that they mentally traipsed through as they scribbled in their studies.

“I see where ye got yer knowledge of poetry from, Sassenach!” Jamie murmed, his arm around Claire.

Claire merely grinned, overjoyed that her uncle had found another partner in crime, as it were.

“I’m glad to see ye found your way here, I was worried you might wander off the path, but then, we always have a bit of fun on detours, do we no?” Ned winked conspiratorially.

“That we do, my friend, that we do!” Lamb laughed.

“Good te see ye Ned. Ye’ll have met Claire’s uncle Lambert at Leoch?” Jamie asked, voicing Claire’s assumption.

“Pardon?” Ned looked around, seeming to see the others for the first time. “Jamie, lad!” He strode over and patted him on the back. “Good to see you again.”

He turned to Claire, clasping her hands and kissing her on the cheek, “and you as well, my dear!” Realizing Jamie had posed a question, he looked back at him.

“Ah, yes. Quent and I became acquainted at Leoch. The poor devil got on Colum’s bad side before he could so much as open his mouth.”

His accent had become more polished and a tad less pronouncedly Scottish around Lamb, Claire noted, not bothering to hide her grin at the realization.

Lamb chuckled and clapped Ned gently on the back. “Doubtless I would have stayed there too, had Ned not risked life and limb to talk me out of his bad books!”

Ned scoffed but Claire noted a faint tint of pleasure colour his lined cheeks.

“Well ye can tell us all about it over supper.” Jenny said firmly, moving to usher the group back inside.

“Oh I couldn’t, really,” said Ned diffidently, “I just came to drop off a deed for Jamie here – ”

Claire and Jamie shared a look, and she saw a faint gleam of hope in his eyes. _The pardon!_

Jenny quirked an eyebrow and folded her arms. “Nonsense. I’ve sent Mrs. Crook to ready a bed for ye, so ye need not hasten back to Leoch.” Even had he wanted to, Ned could never have gone against Jenny’s plans, but as he quickly accepted and resumed chatting excitably with Lamb, Claire was quite sure he was more than pleased to stay and have such a large audience.

–

Once they’d all sat down to a hearty supper of venison, turnips, garlic kale, and a celebratory bottle of red courtesy of cousin Jared, Jamie decided to broach the subject of Lamb’s rescue from Leoch. He was fairly sure by now that Claire’s uncle would wisely skirt away from any details about how he came to be in Scotland, and he was a fair bit curious to hear the tale.

“So, Lamb, ye must tell us of Ned’s aid in yer escape from Leoch!”  

“Hm!” Lamb accelerated his chewing, eager to get to his story. “Well Laird MacKenzie told me straight out that he wasn’t fool enough to believe that a well-born Englishman showing up on his doorstep was innocent happenstance, and he seemed somehow more suspicious when I said I was looking for my niece, if you can believe it!” Lamb replied, almost knocking over a candle in his enthusiasm. “I was a lamb before a lion, you could say, and completely baffled until the other Mr. MacKenzie piped up and informed me that he was sure Claire was a spy for the English!”

His shock, made even more comical by the unruly curls that stuck out to give him the appearance of an alarmed owl had the whole table in tears.

The longer Jamie spent in Lamb’s company, the more he’d been reminded of the shrewd lawyer from Leoch, and his zeal for stories of adventure further reinforced the resemblance. Jamie wondered idly whether this wasn’t why Claire had taken to Ned so quickly when they were traveling with the rent party. 

He glanced over at his wife, remembering how uncommonly quiet she’d been in those early days on the road, and mentally thanked God for Ned.

“How did ye manage to convince them otherwise, Ned?” asked Ian politely as he righted the candlestick and subtly moved it further from Claire’s uncle.  

“Just a bit a reasoning was all that was needed.” Ned said humbly. “After all, it would be a wee bit strange for a Englishman intending to be a spy to show up alone, in such strange garments, and Claire did tell us about the mishap that led her to our halls.”

“Poppycock! You staked your life on your trust of me! You’ve been an enormous help to us.” Lamb beamed at his friend.

“Oh, I’ve merely done my work in service of justice.” Ned blushed, adjusting his glasses.

“Nonsense!” Claire added, her cheeks lightly flushed from drink. “When I had the misfortune to wind up on trial for witchcraft, you came to my aid, guns blazing!”

Jamie tensed a bit, momentarily worried at Claire’s candour. Folk in the Highlands didn’t take accusations of dark magic lightly – as Claire’s very story illustrated – but he quickly relaxed once more. They were among friends and family, all of whom loved Claire. Looking at their faces now, he saw nothing but shock and anger that Claire had been treated so, as well as the joviality at her story of Ned’s rescue. He shrugged his shoulders, as though physically divesting himself of his now-familiar custom to jump to suspicion.

“ – and then they absolutely went mad, so Ned got up and whipped a pistol out!”

Jamie laughed along with the others, in spite of the fear those memories brought with him. Now with the danger past, he delighted in seeing his wife smiling about it.

Ned chuckled. “Weel when words fail, sometimes people need something a tad less ephemeral.”

Claire’s amusement turned to concern. “I was worried you’d been, hurt, but Jamie and I were gone and would have been more of a harm than a help to you at that point. However did you make it out?”

“Oh not too poorly. Managed to fight my way through the crowd and return to Leoch.” Ned’s face betrayed a pride his words sought to deny.

“I’m glad to hear it, though I doubt my uncle Colum would have had the same reaction.” Jamie noted wryly.

“Ah yes, well Colum didn’t explicitly forbid me to go…” Ned explained, though Jamie suspected his uncle’s reaction had not been as mild as Ned was leading them to believe.

“Well of course he didn’t! The man’s not a fool, after all!” Lamb laughed, unaware of the underlying tension.

“On the subject of Colum MacKenzie, Jamie,” Ned said quickly, undoubtedly eager to be done with the story of the trial, “I did want to talk to you about the document I’ve  – ”

“Ach, let’s not speak of law at the supper table, Ned!” Jamie interrupted. “We’ll talk it over after.”

While he was eager to see the pardon, to confirm his freedom and finally lift that burden from the shoulders of the family he hoped to begin with Claire, he would sooner not discuss it in front of Claire’s uncle. For all the man’s graciousness, he couldn’t be thrilled that he daughter had eloped with a Scot from 200 years before their own. Adding the knowledge that he was an outlaw – even a pardoned one – would likely do him no favours in his uncle-in-law’s eyes, and he was keen to have Claire’s beloved uncle approve of their match. His head could bear the weight of a price an hour longer, Jenny always said he’d a thick skull, after all.  

–

Jamie, Claire, and Ned holed up in Jamie’s study while the others cleared up the remnants of supper, talking over Jamie’s pardon.

“The Duke was most pleased with your aid settling his problem with the MacDonalds, so he graciously made good on his word. Not with regards to Captain Randall, mind you,” Jamie’s thigh tensed, and Claire laid a hand on it to soothe him.

“However there are other ways to have your charges excused, and luckily we managed to agree on one.” Ned adjusted his glasses, pointing out a relevant section of the dense legal document. “Now, normally the price would be lifted from your head so long as you agree either to serve with the British army for – ”

“No.” Jamie was quiet but firm.

“Ah, thought you might not like the first so I had a wee chat with the Duke about his reasons for needing you to come to his aid in the first place.” He leaned in conspiratorially, “debts up to his ears, ye ken.”

Jamie scoffed in his familiar Scottish manner, this was no surprise to them.

“Blackmail, Mr. Gowan?” Claire asked teasingly.

“Oh no no, of course not. No, it was merely some legal aid and a wee bit of –” Ned paused to cough into his handkerchief, “persuasion. I kindly reminded him that he owed Clan MacKenzie a certain sum, in addition to those he owes several other clans and other Englishmen. Now, I offered to shift the MacKenzie debt from his shoulders to yours –”

Jamie and Claire both began to protest but Ned tutted them quiet. “I ken, I ken. It’s not ideal, but better to be indebted to yer uncles than the British, and Colum has agree to it.”

Jamie nodded, plans to pacify his uncles without yielding to Colum’s desire to ensconce him as laird and Dougal’s itch to have him at the wrong end of his dirk already assembling themselves in the back of his mind. It complicated one situation, but he did have to admit that it was preferable to facing British justice. “Aye, it is. I thank ye, Ned.”

“Does Sandringham owe the MacKenzies a great deal?” Claire asked.

“Not as much some,” Ned equivocated. “I’m certain you’ll be able to settle it in no more than a year or two.”

Jamie gently rolled up the pardon, tucking it into his coat, “Ye’ve done us a great favour, Ned. I dinna ken how I can ever repay ye for it.”

Ned waved him off, “no need. I’m more than happy to help, and to remove a Scot from the clutches of the British, if I’m being honest.” He beamed at them before turning away once more to cough heavily.

Claire stifled a laugh. “Here, let me at least get me some more thornapple for that nasty cough of yours.”

“Oh thank you, though I, ah, I believe I promised your uncle a wee nip before bed, so should ye happen to have some whisky on hand…”

Jamie clasped his shoulder “That we do. It’s a night to celebrate.”

–

“I hope this isn’t what I think it is, Lambert Beauchamp.” Jenny said, hands on hips, sharp blue eyes threateningly mild. “Because what I think it is, is that you and Mr. Gowan are playing the Devil’s game in my house.”

A look passed between the two that would not have been out of place of the faces of miscreant schoolboys.

“And I’d not like to think you’d be capable of such an affront.”

Lambert was staring wide-eyed at the cards in his hand (a straight flush, sod it!) clearly furiously trying to come up with a good explanation.

“Well, madam, you see…” Ned stuttered, putting on his smooth, lawyer’s voice.

“Don’t you try that on me, Ned Gowan.” Jenny snapped. “You’ll be clearing away those cards and coins before one of the bairns comes down and sees ye. What in the name of God were you thinking?”

Lambert found his voice again, and glanced up at Jenny, doing his best to smile charmingly.

“Just a bit of evening sport, you know. Something to help us unwind a bit before bed.”

Jenny was not convinced. “While it may be in England,” she said, emphasizing the last word with marked distaste, “gambling is no suitable means of unwinding hereabouts.”

“I suppose Claire’s tricks have put you off it then? Though I’d imagine you’d be a fair match for her!”

Jenny looked completely taken aback.

“I wasn’t aware!” Ned said, forgetting Jenny in his delight. “It’s a shame she never mentioned it when we were on the road.”

“Oh yes! You mentioned at Leoch that you traveled in a rent collection party together, yes?” Lamb asked, he too seeing to forget Jenny was still there, her building fury having not yet erupted into words.

“We certainly did! And a good game would’ve been a very nice thing on a long afternoon.” Ned replied.

“You’d definitely have gotten a hard game out of her! Though she was never one for masking her face. Still, she rarely folded. Never did, when she was little. Had to tell her the use of it many times before she even considered it. Scared the pants off half my students, and the money from their pockets too!” Lamb chuckled into his whisky. “They never would admit to being beaten by a woman, of course. Just mumble some nonsense about being robbed.”

Ned joined in his laughter until Jenny finally regained her composure.

“Well then ye should’ve had the sense she was graced with, and seen fit not to pursue such things here.” She said, loudly reminding them of her presence, and their crimes. “A good book should suit you both fine.”

Lambert laughed again, still wrapped up in his memories “or more like the cards she wasn’t graced with! Why, I ought…” he trailed off, catching Jenny’s sharp glare.

“….to ask her to recommend a good book. Books are lovely. Marvelous!” he corrected. Then, hopefully, “don’t suppose you’d happen to have one on the culture and religion of the native Australian tribes?”

Ned stifled his laughter in his handkerchief, trying to disguise it as a coughing fit.

Jenny was not fooled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to a S1 Starz podcast, they were thinking of having a scene with a young Claire gambling with her uncle and refusing to fold. The image tickled me so I snuck it in here.
> 
> Gold star to anyone who catches on to why I chose the poem I did for Ned & Lamb’s reunion! Took me more time that I care to admit to find the right one…


	3. Christmas Lamb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a good many years before Claire tumbles through the Stones, back in the first Christmas she spent with Uncle Lamb.

_*clink*_ A small brass Celtic knot vanished from Lamb’s table. A soft pitter-patter of tiny feet hinted at the thief.

Curious, Lamb followed his recently-acquired 6 year-old niece. He’d decided to keep her relatively close to home - in spite of her acceptance of his proposal of travel - joining his friend’s dig in Scotland.

 

He kept a ways behind so as not to startle the little explosion of curls that scampered ahead of him. The diminutive brown cloud turned into their kitchen-dining room, which also served them as a sort of sitting room, tent space being rather limited.

 

Next to the armchairs he’d nestled between the dining table and the taller table that served as a counter stood one of the old Celtic pots they’d gleefully uncovered and painstakingly re-assembled quite early in the dig. Claire had put a very small Scots pine sapling in it. 800 years old. _800 YEARS OLD_ and it now had a very mucky tree in it.Goodness, _what_ was he going to say to Hubert.

 

A little impact with his legs and a soft thud brought him out of his shock. Claire had threaded the knot onto the tree and was clearly turning back for more treasures. She stared up at him guiltily, her golden eyes ~~Julia’s golden eyes~~ gone wide with surprise and the cogs in her brain visibly shifted into high gear, just as Henry’s had.  

 

Modelling himself after what he’d seen of Henry and Julia’s parenting, he placed his hands on his hips and looked down at her. “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, would you like to explain what it is you’re doing, and why you’ve seen fit to muddy an ancient piece of pottery, not to mention the brasswork?”

 

“It’s a Christmas tree, Uncle!” She explained, the excitement that had lit her eyes at the start of his question having been swiftly extinguished once his irritation had become apparent. “And I’m decorating it.” Her little chest, puffed up with pride at her work, deflated. “Was decorating it.” She looked at her shoes “The vase was muddy when you took it out of the ground in any case.”

 

A fresh wave of sorrow crashed over Quentin Lambert. In his mind’s eye, juxtaposed next to the despondent Claire of his present, were images from the past five years of the same happy child with her parents, next to a tree, adorning the front of a card that would invariably find him every Christmas, regardless of his current location. Evidently she remembered those too; remembered the tree and the decorations, and probably also her parents puttering around behind her. This would be her first Christmas without them.

 

Desperately trying to rekindle the excitement he’d so oafishly shattered, Lamb knelt down to her level. “Darling, my apologies, that was harsh of me.” The small chin tilted back up, hopeful. “I’m afraid we can’t use that particular, er, _vase_ , but I promise I’ll get you another, and you can come with me to get some decorations for it as well.” The large gold eyes glowed with joy once more, sorrow forgotten. “Thank you, Uncle Lamb!”

 

Gingerly, he removed the Celtic knot - no damage done, thank God - and explained to Claire why they must wipe it to remove any juices the plant may have left of it. She then helped him transplant the sapling into a cooking pot, and showed her how to clean the old Celtic _vase_ (as she stubbornly called it).

 

The 25th rolled around faster than it ever had in Lamb’s living memory, and he found himself awake in the early-morning darkness, with a shockingly enthusiastic child running this way and that making cocoa she’d somehow gotten her hands on.

 

Conscious of her assumption that every non-cooking pot was a vase, Lamb had purchased a large blue vase in town that Claire had thoroughly approved of, as well as some tinsel and candles to adorn the tree.

Claire had been ecstatic, and enthusiastically set to work on the decorations, using the tinsel that remained after carefully looping it around the tree to adorn all the archeologists’ hats.

 

“And then we light the pudding on fire!” Claire was explaining, settling into the chair beside Lamb and snapping him back to the present. He laughed, remembering the plum puddings of his childhood and how they’d thrilled Henry. “That you do, but shall we wait until the others wake to give it a go?”

 

The mass of curls went into a flurry, seeming to indicate assent.

 

Lamb sipped his cocoa and let her descriptions of what was proper to do at Christmas envelop him. He looked over at her chattering form, and was startled to find he felt massively relieved.

 

Ever since he’d received the horrid news and had a tot thrust upon him, he’d felt completely and utterly out of his depth. He’d never wanted children, nor had he any clue what to do with them. Claire’s lingering sorrow and the early queries about her parents had done nothing to assuage his fear, nor the guilt of inadequacy he so often felt around her.

 

Yet now her face was the picture of joy, just as it had been on those old cards. It warmed Lamb to the core to know that in this at least, he’d managed to do right by all that remained of his brother and sister-in-law.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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